A Very Harry Potter
by Tess90
Summary: For lack of a better title. Suggestions would be appreciated, along with reviews of course.


A/n; Allighty. Well, first off, let me warn you: This is an incredibly ridiculous, insane piece of work I did when I was hyper. So, I can't be held reponsible for any bits that don't make sense. Other than that, you can accredit everything funny to...moi, of course. Ahhh, I have a feeling there's something I'm forgetting... I guess ya'll know already that Harry Potter and all such related relatedness is the copyrighted works of J.K Rowing (genius!) and that I'm not associated with the author and/or any of the actors. A few of the characters, and this exceedingly bizarre plot are mine though. So, what's left to say, but have fun, and try to ignore any bad grammar, punctuation, spelling, etc.

* * *

In the land of magic and wizards n' such, there lived a pretty young witch, named Caitlin. She had long flow-y blonde hair and golden green eyes. She attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, along with many of her friends, and her boyfriend George.

"George, I'm bored." Caitlin stated flatly, one day as they were just chillin' in the common room.

George sighed and swiveled around in the swively recliner he was sitting in. He looked at Caitlin and sighed again, as if to state a point.

"Me too." Caitlin moaned loudly, not really making any sense.

But then, she was like that a lot.

"Hey!" She said suddenly. "Wouldn't it be weird if Harry Potter and his best friends Ron and Hermione suddenly came bursting through the door?"

George opened his mouth to say something, but before he had a chance to reply, Harry Potter and his best friends Ron and Hermione suddenly came bursting through the door.

"Sup?" Harry said coolly, taking the disgustingly plaid swively chair next to George.

Ron and Hermione stood there, looking mildly confused.

"Grab some seat, dawgs!" he instructed them.

They did as told, and both seated themselves meekly on a cushy maroon couch.

"Harry-" Hermione began, but was cut off as Fred, George's twin brother, paraded by in a frilly pink skirt, wearing lacy underwear on his head.

They all stared, transfixed at the strange sight.

As he was lost up the stairs, Hermione shook her head and began again.

"Harry, tell Caitlin what Neville told me to tell you to tell her." She said.

Harry looked at her flatly. "Why don't you?"

Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Neville says that Malfoy says that Alicia says that Delia says your shorts remind her of her gross Aunt Olga."

"No." Harry said bluntly.

Hermione, looking annoyed, nodded. "Yes, Harry, that _is _what Neville said."

"No." he said again.

Hermione, even more annoyed now, nodded again. "Harry, I think that _I_ remember what he said, seeing as _you _were too lazy to bother with it."

"Nooooooooo."

"HARRY!" Hermione yelled, exasperatedly.

Harry flicked a crumb from his lap, exhaled, and calmly stated: "Neville says that Malfoy says that Alicia says that Delia says your shizzorts remind her of her gross Aunt Helga."

Hermoine rolled her eyes. "That's what I said."

"Nah."

"Yes, it _is_." She insisted.

"Olga."

"What?"

"Olga." Harry repeated. "You said Olga. When Neville was 'splainin it to us, he _clearly_ said 'Helga'".

Hermione let out a small squeak of exasperation as she fell back against the couch, and Caitlin mumbled something angrily under her breath, that none of them really caught.

In all the years they had spent at Hogwarts, Caitlin couldn't think of anyone who got under her skin more than Delia.

Well, there _was_ that creepy kid who kept offering her fried twinkies…but for the most part, it was Delia.

In second year, Delia had borrowed Caitlin's favorite quill and hadn't given it back. From there, it had all been downhill.

In third year, Delia had shown her up in flying. That incident was particularly embarrassing for Caitlin because her dad, Viktor Kake-Krum, was a world renowned Quidditch player, and an excellent flier.

Delia, probably knowing of Caitlin's superior flying skills, had hexed Caitlin's broom so that it drove her straight into the Whomping Willow.

Caitlin shuddered as she remembered that terrible experience.

"Well, I'm gunna go out for a bit." Ron said, snapping Caitlin back to reality. "I just got the strongest craving for a fried twinkie."

"Fried twinkies is off the hizzook ya'll!" Harry exclaimed, jumping up to follow Ron.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and followed as well.

"Let's go somewhere." Caitlin whined, now feeling left out.

George pulled himself from the swively recliner and helped his girlfriend to her feet. She pivoted on her heel and flipped her flow-y blonde locks over her shoulder as she jumped gingerly through the doorway. Landing, just as gingerly, on the other side of the fat lady, she continued along, with George in tow.

--

Caitlin and George were strolling aimlessly down the hallway, headed out to the lake for a short walk before lunch was served. Caitlin hated being late for lunch, because she often had to sit by the twinkie kid, and that wasn't fun.

"You know what would be weird?" Caitlin asked suddenly.

"Huh?"

"If Delia and Malfoy were to pop out of nowhere and begin taunting us."

George opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, Delia and Malfoy popped out of nowhere and began taunting them.

"Hello, Caitlin." Delia sneered.

"What do you want?" Caitlin growled.

Delia grinned spitefully. "Out for a walk with your girlfriend, I see."

Caitlin tensed and frowned. Beside her, she could see George gritting his teeth.

"What do you want Delia?" he asked.

She grinned. "Nothing. Why would you assume I want something?"

"Because you're evil, malicious, and…" Caitlin struggled for words, "Dumb."

"Dumb?" Malfoy scoffed. "Is that the best you've got?"

Caitlin smirked. "No, but apparently it's the best _you _could get."

Beside her, George chuckled.

Malfoy frowned. "Mudblood." He breathed heavily.

Caitlin heard a noise beside her, and then seen a flash of orange on white, as George tackled Malfoy.

"Hey!" Delia shouted, backing away from the two tangled bodies on the floor.

"George!" Caitlin yelled, "Leave him alone! He's not worth it." She managed to grab hold of George's arm and pull him to his feet, leaving Malfoy, looking very disheveled, sprawled out on the floor.

"You'll pay for that, Weasley!" Malfoy shouted, getting to his feet and trying to regain some dignity.

"You wish, Malfoy." George called. "C'mon, let's go get a seat for lunch." He said to Caitlin.

--

The Great Hall was already filled with dozens of hungry students, all waiting expectantly for their lunch.

George and Caitlin found Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Fred, who were already seated near the middle of the Gryffindor table.

"At last!" Fred called out. "I thought the squid might have pulled you in."

"I wish." mumbled Ron.

George ignored him as he took a seat beside Hermione, who had her nose buried deep in a book.

"We didn't even get down to the lake. Ferret-boy and Delia stopped us."

Harry scowled. "Ferrets isn't coo', yo." He said.

Hermione sighed, setting down her book. When no one paid attention to her, she sighed again, louder.

"What?" Ron asked.

"Nothing."

He rolled his eyes. Girls were complicated….

Before Hermione had a chance to press the matter any further, lunch appeared on several silver platters in front of them. There was a slight wave of excitement that passed through the hall as everyone dug into the delicious-looking food.

Ron was in the middle of loading his plate up with mashed potatoes when Hermione screamed. He felt her fingernails dig into his arm as she hid her face behind him.

"Ow!" he yelped. "Hermione!" He pried her hand off his arm. "That hurt!"

But Hermione didn't care. She looked back at the table, screamed again, and jumped up out of her seat, hiding her face in her sleeves.

"What's her deal?" Fred asked.

"Word." Harry said.

"Hermione?" Ron asked, setting a bun on his plate and turning to face her. "What's the matter?"

Still hysterical, she pointed to the table.

"What?"

Hermione, breathing fast, managed to yelp the word cucumbers.

Ron looked to where she was pointing, and saw a silver platter of cucumbers.

"That's all?" he asked, holding back laughter.

Hermione, eyes still averted from the table, nodded. "Th-the-…." She wheezed.

"You're…afraid of them?" Caitlin asked.

Hermione nodded.

Suddenly, everyone burst out laughing, causing the neighboring tables to look over.

Hermione glared at Caitlin, then past her, at Ron.

Then, she dissolved into tears.

Running from the room, she brushed roughly past Caitlin, who only laughed harder.

Soon the laughter died down, and everyone had returned to eating their lunches.

Caitlin, who had been slurping up her mystery soup from a spork, finally said: "D'ya think maybe we were a little …."

"Mean?" suggested George.

"Insensitive?" offered Fred.

"Crizzuel?" said Harry.

"Maybe." Caitlin said. "You know, I think I'll go see how she is. I feel a bit…"

"Malicious?" George suggested.

"Guilty?" Fred offered.

"Crizzuel?" Harry said, again.

"Maybe…."

--

Mischa Fiddlebacher was a Hufflepuff student, in the same year as Caitlin. Like most of those in Hufflepuff, she had no obvious talents or skills. But there was something about Mischa that set her apart from everyone else.

Perhaps it was her long, cascading golden hair, or her crystalline blue eyes. Or maybe it was her smile, which was as infectious as rabies, minus the drooling and unpleasant insanity of course.

But, Mischa, despite being quite pretty and virtually drool-free, had very few friends. She usually went about her business quietly, and minded her own troubles, which is precisely what she had been doing on that balmy Tuesday afternoon.

The library, as always, was nearly empty, and Mischa had just dropped in to see if they had the book on Dung Beetles that she had been meaning to read.

She was standing alone, book bag in a heap beside her, scanning the titles of the books in front of her.

_A Guide to The Beatles _

_Non-fiction _

_By: Patrickle Porter _

_How to Build an Outhouse _

_Non-fiction _

_By: Stella Dunggghh _

Finally, she found the book she had been searching for.

It was bound in a red-leather cover, with gold inscription on the side and front. She pulled it from the shelf, just as a voice rang out. "Well, lookie-loo! Who do we have here?!"

Mischa looked to the left, and grimaced, as she saw an unwelcome, albeit quite familiar, face.

"What do you want, Delia?" she asked shortly.

Delia grinned as she rounded the bookcase, stopping just short of Mischa's book bag. "Whatever would make you think I want something?" she asked innocently.

Mischa rolled her eyes, closed the book and tucked it under her arm.  
"What do you want?" she repeated.

Delia grinned ever broader.

Mischa wanted to hurl. But hurling, or rather the spittle that comes up along with the hurl, may have endangered her drool-free reputation, so she managed to refrain.

Delia dragged her toe along the ground, tracing out a pattern known only to her, and looked around, still acting quite friendly.

"I was wooonderring…." She began softly, "if you wanted to eat lunch with me and some of the guys down by the lake."

"Lunch?" Mischa repeated.

"Yeah, lunch." Delia confirmed. Suddenly, her arm swung from behind her, somehow clutching a large picnic basket, as only they can do in movies and fictitious stories.

"Uhh… all right." Mischa said, slowly picking up her bag from Delia's feet.

Delia grinned. She slipped her arm through Mischa's and marched her from the library.

* * *

Awesome... so, I have no real idea where this is going. A few vague notions come to mind concerning future plotlines. For the most part, you can probably expect to see another absurd chapter or two. Reviews would be great until then... :) 


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